


The Weight Of You

by ZippyZapmeister



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Edgeplay, F/M, Kinktober, Scarification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-11
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-21 20:15:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8259269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZippyZapmeister/pseuds/ZippyZapmeister
Summary: Owain wouldn't let Morgan suffer alone.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Kinktober, Day 10
> 
> Prompt: Edgeplay

The design could be seen scribbled all over Morgan’s tomes, all exactly identical and precise in its angles. She sometimes wrote it on her hand in ink, and every time Owain saw it, he felt a tinge of pride and fear in his veins. “That's gonna be me, soon,” he whispered one time at breakfast, looking at the lines that she had intricately carved in her bread with a  knife.

  


“Except for real.” Morgan commented. “Yuck, Owain, don't make me think about it while we're eating...”

  


When the day finally came, Morgan arrived in Owain’s tent with towels, a pail of water, some cloths, and a healing stave. Morgan was confident in her healing abilities; she had learned from both her brother Brady and her mother Maribelle, who Owain knew to be excellent healers. He trusted her. He knew he had to, or else the whole thing would fall apart. That's what it was, everything that they were doing. Trust. 

  


Owain had already removed his shirt, staring at the parchment that Morgan had drawn the official design on. Owain looked at it and felt some semblance of guilt. How could he let Morgan etch the Mark of Grima into his back? He was of Exalted blood, a product of Naga’s grace...and yet, he  _ wanted _ Grima’s mark engraved in his skin? For a second, he reconsidered...then, he remembered. The guilt on Morgan's face every time he ran his fingers over her back, over the six watchful eyes taunting her. The way she looked as if she would break down whenever anyone spoke of the pain Grima had caused. The war was over, but Morgan's pain was not.

  


As Morgan laid the towels out on Owain's bed, he whispered, “We're bound by the red string of fate. We're partners in justice, life, love...that means I can't let you suffer alone. I know this pain won't match up to anything that you feel, but I'll remember. Okay?”

  


Morgan smiled and nodded, her lip quivering, and Owain knew that that was the nod that she did when she wouldn't speak for fear of crying. Brady always did it too, and Owain laughed breathlessly. Morgan cleared her throat and said, “Well, let's get you on your stomach.”

  


Owain obediently positioned himself atop the towels, and Morgan placed a pillow under his head. As images of the knife carving up his skin entered his head (naturally), he felt his breaches tightening. Blushing, he inhaled and exhaled determinedly. Morgan leaned the staff against his cot, taking her tactician’s robe off and flinging it to the floor. She must have noticed him shifting to accommodate his growing boner, because when she straddled his thighs, she “hmph”d in amusement. “Sorry,” he mumbled, dropping his heroic act. “I don't know why I'm reacting this way.”

  


Morgan took the knife out of her back pocket and laid it across the slightly-clammy skin of Owain’s back. He shivered. The metal was cool. “That's fine. If you're up to it, we can do those things afterwards. You ready?”

  


It felt like they were going too fast, but Owain liked a fast-paced...well, anything. “Let's proceed, my dear partner.”

  


Taking up Owain’s boisterous personality, Morgan declared, “And with this, we are bound together, for all eternity!”

  


Owain felt the metal leave his back for a split second...and then, it was back, except colder but hotter. The searing pain was everything at once. Burning, freezing, sharp, dull, hurt, pleasure. Owain tried to keep still, wanting to preserve the preciseness that he knew Morgan had in her fingertips. Curses fell from his lips and into the pillowcase.

  


He had imagined being able to feel every curve as the knife sliced his skin, but all he could feel was it being there. He had no way of telling where Morgan was in the design or which eye she was drawing. It was all muddled and blurring together. Over his sobs and cries, she said, “Owain? This is okay, right?”

  


“Yeah, yeah,” he grunted. Then, “...Please don't stop.”

  


Morgan giggled, and he could tell that she was enjoying it thoroughly. After a few seconds, Owain felt the knife’s presence receding. “All done...” She whispered. Owain’s cock twitched against the fabric of his bottoms, but be was more focused on calming the pain. 

  


When Morgan grabbed her stave, Owain gasped out, “No, don't! I can handle it. It's fine, the pain, it's fine!”

  


“Owain, come on,” Morgan urged. “I can take it away. Just be still.”

  


“No, it defeats the purpose. You don't get to take your pain away, so don't take mine,” he struggled out, his breath labored. “Just clean it up...”

  


Morgan seemed unsure, but she grabbed some cloths and dipped them in water, gently cleaning up the wound and cooing to Owain as if he were a baby. When she finished, she climbed off of him again, and he stood up. Using two mirrors, Morgan showed Owain his back. The area around the wound was pinkish and reddish, but he could see the wound standing out proudly. The six eyes watched him, except he didn't see the judging, evil gaze that he usually saw. He saw some sort of unity and a cruel kind of romance. Every line was etched perfectly as if she had simply drawn it on paper. Morgan blushed and said, “Well? What do you think?” 

  


They set the mirrors down and Owain turned to her. Her eyes were earnest, searching, but when he placed his hands on her hips, they became glazed over with lust. Their hands each went into the other’s pants and past their underwear; he could feel her slick heat surrounding his fingers as he wriggled two inside of her. Her own hand wrapped around his cock and began stroking furiously, his pre-come serving as lubricant. The throbbing pain in his back became only a fairly distant memory as they both reached their swift completion, leaning into each other as they did so.

  


When they were sure that the other was finished, they pulled their hands out of their smallclothes and kissed softly, more of a peck than anything. Morgan grabbed some more cloths and cleaned them both up, then unceremoniously swept the bloody towels off of the bed and fell onto it. Owain laid next to her, burying his face into the crook of her neck and being careful not to lay on his back. They both undressed fully and snuggled under the blankets, sweaty and sated.

  


“Huh. Wow,” Morgan murmured, and Owain nodded headily. “I thought that would be more...emotional.”

  


“I-I'm sorry...I couldn't control myself-” Owain began.

  


“No, no, Owain, I'm not upset. I'm happy it turned out this way. I wouldn't want to have to deal with all of that mushy stuff anyway. I didn't think you would react the way you did...I thought I was crazy for getting off on this kind of thing,” Morgan breathed. 

  


Owain chuckled. “Just because we both like it doesn't mean you're not crazy.”

  


Morgan's gaze seemed far-off, and she mumbled, “Hey, Owain? Can I say something really cheesy?”

  


“Cheesy? That's my favorite thing in the world.”

  


Morgan snickered, then kissed Owain on the cheek. “Thanks for doing this. I've never known someone who would do something like this, and...well, there's no getting rid of me now, just so you know!”

  


“Agh! What a terrible life I'll have to live, bound both physically and emotionally to the greatest woman on Earth! However will I cope...?” 

  


Morgan smiled, and Owain felt relieved to see no traces of anguish on her features. It felt serene, almost, to carry the weight of her torment on his back...

  
Quite literally.


End file.
